TMNT Shorties!
by Poetique823
Summary: A collection of random TMNT drabbles written for prompts or by request. Enjoy!
1. I Didn't Know You Could Sing

**A/N: So this drabble was a prompt given to me on Tumblr. Characters used: Donnie and Casey, Key phrase: "I didn't know you could sing."**

 **Disclaimer I do not own TMNT or the song "In the Pocket" by Andy Grammar.**

Casey walks his bike into the lab. He busted its taser and blow torch the night before while bashing some Purple Dragon scum. Donnie said he would help him fix it _and_ soup it up with more juice. That was all the incentive the hockey player needed to enlist in the purple-band turtle's help.

"Yo, D, you in here man?" he shouts when he doesn't see Donatello at his usual spot behind his computer. It smells like smoke and there's a crackling sound coming from the other side of the lab, near the garage. Wheeling his bike toward the garage area, Casey finally sees Donnie and realizes his previous greeting was unheard. With his back facing Casey, Donnie's welding helmet is down over his face as he welds some sort of gadget onto the side of the Shellraiser. In silent awe, Casey watches him work. His precision is impressive, but Casey's pretty sure _he_ could do a better job at MIG welding in his shop class at school…or at least in his mind he does. When Donnie finally turns off the welding torch, Casey is about to shout the first insulting greeting he can think of, but stops short when he hears a muffled rhythm coming from Donnie's shielded face. As Donnie lifts his welding helmet, Casey stares wide-eyed at the mutant turtle before him.

"What the heck?" He mouths the words silently as he hears a mellow tone flow from the lips of the genius turtle.

"I want a teacher who's eager to speak her mind  
Delicate features, sweet with her tongue so kind  
I am looking for the markers that say "permanent" so we can share  
I am looking for a love that's still alive and well in rocking chairs"

He can hardly believe his ears. Is this really the same nasally brainiac that drones on about nerd stuff, now serenading the Shellraiser?

A dreamy smile ghosts over Donatello's lips as he uses a hand-held grinder to smooth out some rough patches on the Shellraiser's newest add-on. Casey had to admit, the dude had a nice voice: a buttery tenor voice that would definitely be a heartthrob at his high school. Donnie loses himself into the song as he smoothly belts out the next few lines:

"I am looking for a shining light that likes to fight and persevere  
I am looking for a lady that wants to make me part of her atmosphere  
And oh, just one more thing  
Oh, just one more Tha...AAAAAAHH! What're you doing here, Jones?! How long have you been standing there?!" Donnie squawks, gripping his upper plastron trying to keep his heart from jumping out his chest.

It just so happened, Donatello turned around to pick up a polishing cloth when he saw Casey smirking behind him.

"Long enough to hear you caterwauling to the Shellraiser." Casey nudges out the kickstand on his bike with his foot before rubbing the hood of the Shellraiser in mocking sympathy. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think she's your type."

"Whatever, Jones." For once the intelligent turtle had no sassy remark and simply scowled at Casey's teasing. "Do you want me to fix your bike or _not_?"

"Dude, chill. I'm just messin' with ya." Casey holds up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "But, seriously, I didn't know you could sing."

Donnie eyes Casey suspiciously, waiting to be the butt of a punchline, but when the joke never comes he relaxes his features from a defensive scowl to a more reserved posture, embarrassed his voice was heard, especially by the likes of Casey Jones. "It's not exactly something I broadcast to the general public…."

Donatello never considered himself an artsy person; that role was fully claimed by his youngest brother. However, outside of his more scientific and structured way of expressing himself, somehow, a fragment of artistic creativity found its way to his vocal cords contently settling there over the years. Surprisingly, he had the ability to carry a tune that was actually musically pleasing to the ears. It was a fluke, an erroneous gift, oddly out of place in the logical soul of one such as Donatello. His brothers rarely hear his suave singing. He doesn't do it often. When he is certain no one will hear him—while he is welding, grinding, drilling, or using other loud equipment—only then will he belt out the latest song captivating his mind.

"Well, ya didn't sound too bad." Casey says nonchalantly with a shrug. "Kinda like the sappy guys with guitars you hear on the radio." He leans against the shellraiser and gives Donnie a toothy smirk.

"….Thanks?..." Donnie arches his brow questioningly, unsure if the puckhead is insulting him or genuinely attempting a compliment. He looks away from Casey as he clears his throat and quickly changes the subject. "So, uh, I was thinking I could amp the voltage on your bike's taser."

"Yeah, man, that'd be freakin' sweet! I could totally fry those Purple Dragons to a crisp! Do you think you could—"

"Casey!...There you are! ...Oh, hey, Donnie!" April rounds the corner with a bright smile that spread across her countenance, making her cerulean eyes shine.

"Huh-hey, April." Donnie's face grows warm with an approaching blush. He rubs the back of his head timidly.

"Are you coming? Zombie Death Match 3000 starts in a few minutes," April asks Casey as she looks at her cell phone, checking the time.

Casey slaps his forehead with a sigh. "Aw, Red, I almost forgot…. Donnie, dude, can we work on my bike another time? Date night, ya know?"

Donnie looks from Casey to April and back to Casey again. "Oh, uh, yeah sure… another time…. you know what? Just leave it here and I'll have it amped up in two shakes of a turtle's tail!" Donnie smiles, but the gesture is so forced it hurts his face. He hates when he does that, mechanically being extra nice when in fact he was actually flustered and bothered by something. He was ninety-eight percent sure it was an ingrained defense mechanism.

"Thanks, D, you're the man…er turtle! Catch ya later!"

"See you later, Donnie!"

"Bye," he chokes out a weak farewell, his eyes never leaving April's beautiful form, but the couple has already turned their backs to him chatting animatedly. Casey must have said something funny, because April giggles as she playfully swats him on the arm. With wistful eyes, Donatello watches Casey slip his hand into the back pocket of April's blue jeans as she leans into his side. As they walk out the lab, harmonious lyrics of irony play through the earplugs of his t-pod, swelling his heart with wishful thinking and unrequited love:

 _Do we fit in the pocket? Can we fit, sit back in the pocket?_

 _When the dreams and the drums start rocking,_

 _Can we dance with our knees not knocking, knocking?_

 _See I, I want a lady I can put stock in_

 _I want the a bass and backbeat to lock in_

 _I want to know real love's not forgotten, not forgotten._

 **FIN**

 **A/N: Okay, so this was written in a thirty minute period, nothing fancy, just exactly what it says it is...a drabble, lol. I might write more if I get requests.**

 **Until next time,**

 **Poetique**


	2. No One is Ever Truly Fearless

**A/N: I'm back with another drabble! This was request by Bubblyshell and the prompt given was Leo with the phrase "No one is ever truly fearless." This drabble is very 'morbid' to say the least. You have been warned! Thanks to Ravenshell for her awesome beta skills!**

* * *

 **No One is Ever Truly Fearless**

The young turtle sniffled into his father's robe, embarrassed of his mistake. With a solemn look and a single hand gesture, the other three turtles understood practice was over and scurried out of the dojo while occasionally looking back at their father and brother.

"I'm sorry I failed, Sensei." The young turtle pulled away from his father, staring at his feet as he clenched and unclenched his toes. With a sigh, Splinter looked over the dojo. There were two stacks of cinderblocks approximately twelve feet apart from each other. There was a fifteen-foot piece of plywood on top of each both stacks serving as a 'bridge' from one to the other. However, the plywood was now on the floor. It fell after a shaky misstep of a terrified little turtle. He did not realize his son's phobia until the turtle was halfway across the wooden board and began to hyperventilate after looking down. Splinter caught him before he could tumble to the mat below. It took several minutes to calm down the bundle of turtle in his arms.

Perhaps a height of five feet was a bit too ambitious for their balancing exercise. Splinter considered it a moment more, but decided five feet was not excessively difficult to master. With extra practice he had no doubt his son could accomplish this small feat.

He rubbed the top of the eight-year-old's smooth green head as he turned to leave the dojo. "It is alright, Leonardo. We will try again tomorrow."

"But I can't!" The panic returned to Leonardo's eyes.

"Why can't you, my son?" he questioned his son calmly as he turned around in time to see his face begin to pale.

"Because…. because…." Splinter waited patiently as Leo struggled with his admission. "I'm scared, Sensei." The shame and self-disappointment in the turtle's face was far worse than any thought Splinter had concerning the poor boy.

"All the more reason to practice again tomorrow."

"But I can't practice if I'm scared! Raphie says I have to be fearless to be a leader; if I'm not fearless then… then… I'm a baby like Mikey and if I'm a baby, I can't be brave and be my brothers' keeper." His small face held the utmost seriousness, though it was still round with babyish features.

Splinter smiled at his son. He often told Leonardo, as the oldest, he was his brothers' keeper. It warmed his heart to see him take his responsibility so seriously at such a young age. Kneeling on one knee to be eye-level with his eldest child, he placed his pawed hand over the turtle's thin shoulder. "No one is truly fearless, Leonardo. Your brothers are afraid of things as well. Raphael is afraid of insects, Donatello is afraid of thunderstorms, and you know Michelangelo is fearful of the dark. You are not alone in your fears."

"What are you afraid of?" His innocent question took Splinter by surprise, but nevertheless he answered it honestly.

"Being without my sons."

The confused look on his face was almost comical. "But we aren't going anywhere, Master Splinter."

A deep chuckle tickled his throat as he squeezed his son's shoulder. "Yes, I know Leonardo, not for a long time. We will continue a private practice tomorrow."

"But what if I'm not fearless by tomorrow? Can we practice next week instead? I can practice being fearless now, and then I'll be ready."

His logic was faulty, but his good intentions and determination were in the right place. "Leonardo, being fearless does not mean you are without fear, it means doing what is important in spite of fear. Do you understand?"

The disappointment in having to practice the balance beam tomorrow was evident on the young turtle's face. Although he did not fully understand the wisdom laced in his father's words, he nodded anyway.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Leonardo was still afraid of heights. For eight years, Master Splinter worked diligently with him to overcome his fears. Mediation was a huge help. He also learned his own little tricks to subdue his fears of heights. Always focus on the building top in front of you when leaping across rooftops; never _ever_ look down; and if you must look down, move _fast,_ because the faster you move, the less time you have to be afraid. He followed these rules like commandments written in stone. He had to. Being afraid was not an option, especially not tonight. They were on their usual patrol when the team spotted Bebop and Rocksteady on one of the rooftops, looking particularly suspicious.

It wasn't long before a fight broke out when Donatello figured out the satellite they were fumbling with had the potential to elicit mind-control radio waves. The pig and rhino were not easy adversaries, especially with backup Footbots creeping in from the shadows of the rooftop like roaches, but the turtles were holding their own. That is, until Raphael's roar pierced the night air like a needle through a balloon. Leonardo sliced a Footbot out of the way just in time to see another Footbot rip a katana from his brother's side. Blood splattered the rooftop from the backward swing of the blade. Bebop pulled out a gun shooting spider-legged suction cups onto Raphael's plastron. The electric current flowing from the wires to his chest were enough to render the red-banded mutant speechless as his body constricted in pain like an exorcism gone horribly wrong. The gadget contracted back into the taser gun leaving Raph swaying dangerously near the edge of the building.

"No…" Leo whispered, picking up his pace as he sliced through Footbots to reach his brother. A hoggish snort and a forceful huff from Bebop were all it took for Raphael fall like a sack of bricks over the edge. "NO!" Leo screamed. Donatello saw the look in Leonardo's eyes before Michelangelo did and called out to him with a cry of panic and fear, realizing what his eldest brother was getting ready to do. Without thought or pause, Leonardo dived over the edge of the 20-storey building.

Tucking his arms and legs together to gain speed, he fell faster toward his brother. When he was close enough, he grabbed Raphael's belt and yanked him upward. A quick aerial turn placed his carapace in direct line with the fast-approaching pavement below, with intent of protecting his unconscious brother from further injury. There was a sudden calming silence as everything moved in slow motion. Clutching his brother tightly against his plastron, he felt the small rise and fall of his chest. Still alive…. thank God he was still breathing.

He hoped his body would be enough to protect his wounded brother from the fall until Donatello found them and was able to patch up Raphael. Time returned to its normal speed. With his shell facing the imminent ground, Leo was engulfed in tunnel vision as the building above grew smaller and smaller.

 ** _Being fearless does not mean you are without fear, it means doing what is important in spite of fear._**

Leonardo wasn't afraid of heights anymore.

 **FIN**

* * *

 **A/N: *hides* Don't kill me Bubblyshell! Okay, I'm trying to write the drabbles in the order in which I receive them. An Anonymous review request a drabble for the prompt phrase "Because I said so", so that will be the next one posted here. Thanks for reading and please leave a review, a request, or both! :)**


	3. Because I Said So

**A/N: I'm back with another drabble! This one is a request made by a Guest reviewer who wanted the prompt "Because I said so". Guest reviewer, I give you props for stumping on this one! Took me awhile to think of something to write that was too boring...well I hope its not boring...I tried. Without further ado, here's your request!**

 **And, special thanks to Ravenshell for being my beta and FaithfulWhispers for offering her insight :)**

* * *

 **Because I Said So**

"I made it pretty, Daddy!"

"Paint belongs in your coloring book, not on my robe, Michelangelo."

"Can I make the dojo look pretty instead?"

"No."

"What about Raphie?"

"Absolutely not. Coloring books only."

"But the pictures in my head are really big and my coloring book's too small."

"Perhaps less sugar would lessen the pictures in your mind…."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, my son."

"….What about the cabinets?"

"No."

"But why?..."

"Because I said so."

* * *

"But, Master Splinter, I have rubber gloves on! Rubber doesn't conduct electricity, so I won't get hurt. It'll protect me from any electrical backfires….not that there will _be_ any electrical backfires…. and I also took additional precautions to—"

"Donatello, you are not to go anywhere near those loose wires!"

"But, I can fix it, Sensei!"

"No! Your safety is more important than proving your knowledge."

"Why can't I fix it?"

"Because I said so!"

* * *

"How many times have I told you to use your words, before your fists, Raphael?"

"But Mikey doesn't listen! The only thing he understands is me clobbering him! Why do I have to do backflips? Why does he get off easy, standing in the corner…he started it!"

"If you are so adamant about standing in the corner, you can do so _after_ you finish your fifty backflips."

"Still don't know why I have to do stupid backflips…."

"Because I said so."

* * *

"But I'm ready, Master Splinter!"

"Patience, Leonardo. For now you and your brothers will practice with bokken."

"But, but….why do I have to wait with Raph, Donnie, and Mikey? I'm better at katas than they are _and_ I'm more responsible…I know I would be great with _real_ weapons!"

"Be careful of the pedestal you place yourself upon, my son, the fall is never pleasant."

"Hai, Sensei…..What if you just gave _me_ my new weapon without them knowing? You could train me in private, so they wouldn't feel bad."

"No. You will wait along with your brothers for your weapon, possibly longer if you do not soon learn humility."

"But, sensei, why?"

"Because I said so."

* * *

"We'll stick together and I'll make sure _they_ stay out of trouble."

"What're we, five?...We don't need you babysitting us, Fearless!...Sick of being in this sewer hole all the time, though…."

"Just think of the learning experience, Sensei!"

"Oh! And leprechauns! I totally want to see one!...They live under bridges and—"

"Yame! You are forbidden to go to the surface world!" The sharp command silences the boys immediately. Looking at each of his sons with an eye of scrutiny and well-hidden apprehension, he sees they are no longer the chubby-limbed tots they were ten years ago, and neither are they the awkward gangly pre-teens they were three years ago. They are fifteen. They are strong, well-trained, and with good values. They are good boys, just the way he raised them to be. Yes, just as he raised his kind-hearted, innocent children to be.

"Why not, Sensei?"

He knows he cannot keep them away from the surface world forever.

Hopeful eyes stare at him, waiting for his final word. He knows this time 'because I said so' will not be enough to deter their curiosity, their wonderment, their need to be a part of something more than he could ever provide.

 **FIN**

 **Please leave a review! :)**


	4. New Toy

**A/N: Okay, so this little drabble popped into my head in-between prompt requests, so I had to get out! It's a turtle tot drabble, hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it :D**

 **Special thanks to my beta Ravenshell and to Sewersurfin82 for the turtle tot inspiration!**

* * *

 **New Toy**

Donatello laughs and coos with the turtle beside him. Splinter brought him and the freckled turtle beside him a furry teddy bear. It's warm and fuzzy just like the big rat and it makes him feel happy and safe as he cuddles his face in its cushiony belly. The small turtle does not know Splinter by name yet, and he often forgets what Splinter calls the other three turtles that look like him, but he knows they are a consistent part of his small world.

 _Let's play!_

The cheerful sound from the bear's tummy elicits a gurgling giggle from the baby turtle as he sucks on two of his fingers. The freckled turtle beside him babbles wildly, taking the fascinating toy back from him. The baby turtle didn't mind though. Splinter showed them how to play together. He had a turn to play with the toy and then after a few minutes it was the freckled turtle's turn. Splinter called it 'sharing'. Sometimes the freckled turtle takes too long with his turn, but Donatello doesn't mind. When he reaches and flexes his fingers for it, the freckled turtle always gives it back with a drooly smile.

"Aaaarrrgh!...Na!"

"Mi, mi, miiiiiiiii!"

The shrieking sound immediately takes the little turtle's attention away from the teddy being shaken by the freckled turtle and to the two other turtles a few feet away from them. Those turtles scream and babble as they play an angry tug of war with a toy train. Donatello doesn't like it when they are loud and angry. They are loud and angry a lot.

"Leonardo! Raphael!" Splinter's voice is sharp as he pulls the train away from both turtles. "No pinching, Leonardo!...Raphael, no!...Do not bite! You are brothers. Brothers do not hurt one another."

 _Brothers…_ Yes, that was the word Splinter used when he talked about the fighting turtles and the freckle-faced turtle beside him. They were called 'brothers.'

"I have little to give you, so you must share. See how nicely your brothers share and play together?" Splinter motions his hand to him and his 'brother'. As if on cue, the happy turtle beside him shoves the stuffed bear into his peripheral vision. Gingerly taking the bear with the hand he isn't currently sucking on, he plops it between his legs, pressing its belly.

 _You're my best friend!_

He presses the bear firmly in its furry center again, eliciting another fun-loving phrase. There is something hard inside and he wonders what it could be. Could it be the cause of the wonderful noise that makes him happy in his little chest? He has to know!...But how is he going to get inside the bear?

A small thread near the bear's chest catches his attention. Taking hold of the dangling string with chubby baby fingers, he pulls and it gets longer. His eyes light up with innocent curiosity as he pulls and pulls and suddenly fluffy white stuff flows out like popcorn! He feels the cottony texture of the stuffing, but doesn't dwell on it long, because he's on a mission; a mission to find the happy noise. Deciding this is a 'two-hand' job, his fingers leave his mouth with a resounding 'pop' as he commences to pull handful after handful of the fluffy stuffing from the toy bear.

His freckly brother whines beside him, distraught at the destruction of their precious toy, but Donatello continues plunder and dig into the bellows of the bear until his little fingers clasp around something small and round. Pulling his prize from the disemboweled bear, Donatello holds the small button-shaped object in his hands. He presses the button and his eyes widen with accomplishment and glee when the button recites another phrase of delight to him.

However, his joy is short-lived as the happy noise is clumsily plucked from his fingers. He turns in shock to find his brother gibbering and drooling as he presses the button several times before plopping it into his mouth. His cheeks puff out as bites and chews creating playful sounds in his mouth. Donatello stares in horror with teary eyes as his brother giggles and chews happily on _his_ happy noise. Maybe he will give it back when he's finished; maybe his brother will share. That's what Splinter says they should do….share.

However, that hope of 'sharing' is quickly destroyed by two syllables.

"Uh-oh." When his brother says 'uh-oh', it's always a bad thing. Michelangelo smacks his lips together several times while gaping his mouth open and shut. Donatello stares straight into his mouth. Where was his happy noise?

Donatello wastes no time sticking his hand in his brother's mouth. He wants his happy noise! At such a painful intrusion into his mouth, his brother screams as fat tears roll down his face.

"Donatello, no!" Splinter snatches his brother—and his happy noise—away from him. He was so focused on his other 'brothers' that he did not see the teddy bear massacre take place. "You are hurting your brother!" The little turtle whimpers as he sucks on his fingers again. He grips the leg of the teddy bear with his other hand, waving it with purpose at Splinter as stuffing falls everywhere.

A strange look of understanding crosses the older rat's features as he looks at the baby turtle crying in the crook of his arm. "Michelangelo, did you eat something you should not have?"

"Uh-oh." Michelangelo cries pitifully, leaning his head against Splinter's shoulder. "Go bye-bye."

"What went 'bye-bye', little one?"

His question was answered with a single hiccup.

 _Let's play!_

Splinter's eyes widen in astonishment as he looks from the pile of teddy bear innards to the equally as shocked Michelangelo, putting two and two together.

Splinter and Michelangelo both look at the latter's plastron. Fright immediately forgotten at the sound coming from his stomach, Michelangelo giggles causing another hiccup and happy little jingle to play from the toddler. Splinter sighs, gently patting the turtle's tummy. "I suppose you shall have a surprise for me in a few hours." The rat could have sworn he saw a facetious twinkle in his bright blue eyes. He checks Michelangelo over once more, his poking and fatherly prodding only causing additional bouts of laughter from the freckled turtle. Splinter looks down at Donatello who is still staring teary-eyed at the turtle in his arms. "Do not worry, Donatello, your brother is unharmed." Still sucking fervently on his fingers, Donatello grabs up at Michelangelo with his free hand. Seeing his desire for his brother, Splinter gently sits Michelangelo beside him. Donatello immediately crawls over to Michelangelo. For a moment, Splinter is warmed by such an instinctual concern for his brother...until Donatello pokes Michelangelo's stomach.

"Hm…I am glad to see you were concerned for your brother's well-being. Splinter's dry wit is completely lost to Donatello as he waves his hand excitedly at the muffled sounds coming from the freckled turtle's tummy. The gap-toothed turtle is elated by the sound of his happy noise. He looks into the face of the bright green turtle to see a big toothy smile on his freckly face. For some reason this also makes Donatello happy. There is a moment of silence between the toddlers before another hiccup jars Michelangelo.

 _I love you!_

Donnie coos excitedly around the two finger in his mouth while poking his brothers tummy again. Michelangelo bounces on his bottom emitting more glorious sounds and phrases until he tumbles over on his carapace giggling, babbling, and hiccupping happily. Donatello follows suit, scooting toward him joyfully patting his brother's plastron. He thinks he understands what 'brother' means now. It means having a new toy!

 **FIN**

 **A/N: I think I'm becoming a fan of writing turtle tots...they're just so *cute*, lol. Leave a review, let me know what you think! Next request coming up is "A-team vs. B-team" ;D**


	5. A-team vs B-team

**A-team vs. B-team**

 **A/N: Wow, feels like forever since I posted a drabble! I have to admit, this was a tough prompt to write a drabble for! Everything I brainstormed seemed so boring, I almost gave up this prompt, then I had an 'ah-ha' moment! This drabble is actually a nod to the prank mentioned in my story 'Logic of the Soul' that both Leo and Raph fearfully refer to as the 'bathroom fiasco' prank. Now I will note that in Logic of the Soul the prank is called the 'Bathroom Fiasco of '06' which would make the boys around six, HOWEVER, they are actually thirteen in this drabble, so please pardon the time discrepancy. I will more than likely edit that wording in LotS. Alright, with that cleared up let's take a trip down memory lane...**

 **P.S. Big thanks to Ravenshell for her awesome beta skills. I made a few additions after she sent it back. Didn't want to bug her again about the insertions I added, so if you see errors chalk it up to me, not her ;)**

* * *

"But it's our turn!" Mikey shrills as he reaches to grab the game controller from Raph's other hand which is just out of his reach.

"Back off, puke-face!" Using his foot, Raph shoves Mikey away sending him sprawling to the floor of the pit right at Donnie feet.

"You guys, that isn't fair at all!" Donnie huffs in a voice stuck somewhere between child and adolescent. He looks expectantly at his oldest brother. "Leo?"

Unfortunately, Leo was only the 'fair' brother when Sensei was around. With Master Splinter out scavenging, Leo was being just as big a jerk as Raph. "Sorry, Donnie, but Raph beat you at arm wrestling fair and square. No do-overs." Leo explains in his annoyingly fake adult voice as he grabs a hidden game disc from under the couch cushion.

"It was completely unnecessary to hold an arm wrestling match, when it was our turn anyway…. at least it would've been before Raph broke the gaming console!" Donnie argues as he offers Mikey a hand up.

"Yeah!" Mikey pipes in with a pout.

In a gaming rage, Raphael managed to damage the motherboard of the console by slamming his fist into it…. coincidentally right before it was Donnie and Mikey's turn to play. Since they were not allowed to go topside, they were forced to wait for Master Splinter to bring back the hodge-podge pieces Donnie required over the course of two weeks in order to fix it. With a promise to let Mikey and him play with the game console, Donnie fixed it with little to no trouble at all.

However, that so-called promise had a clause of 'arm wrestling' that was not stated in the early agreement. Donnie didn't stand a chance in an arm wrestling match against Raph. Heck, the red-band turtle's bicep was nearly the size of Donnie's head! Donatello's lanky arm bent like a palm tree in a tsunami after a five second match with Raph's meaty arm.

"Don't be such a sore loser, Don. Not my fault you're a scrawny lightweight."

"I am not!" The squeaky crack of his thirteen-year-old voice was not helping to prove his point.

" _I am not!_ " Raph mimicks, "You sound like a girly Darth Vader." He says with a smirk before turning his attention to the introduction screen of the game. Raphael's voice reached a balanced baritone weeks before his brothers with Leonardo's close behind. Michelangelo's voice was still light, not quite ready to let go of its preteen tone just yet. Donatello's voice was a scratchy and awkward radio wave that pitched and plummeted at any given moment.

"Maybe if you would have picked a more intellectually stimulating competition I would have had a fair chance at winning." Donnie crosses his arms over his plastron standing conceitedly over Raph.

"You callin' me stupid?" Raph sizes him up from his seated position on the couch, unimpressed by his younger brother's brainy babbling.

"Well, if the dunce hat fits…"

"You got something to say, egg head?" Raph growls as he tightens his grip the game controller.

"I just did, meat head. Try to keep up. It's no fun insulting you when you don't even comprehend the jabs."

"You scrawny little worm, I oughta—"

"Knock it off, you guys," Leo orders as he selects his zombie slayer character on the screen, "Look, we won and that's that…. Plus we're older, so it's kind of a seniority thing anyway…. like a…. like an unwritten older brother code."

"Oh, nice one!" Raph smirks, the previous accumulating rage trumped by older brother cool points. He fist bumps Leo as they start level one.

Donnie huffs indignantly, "There's no such thing, you just made that up!"

"Are you sure? Maybe you should go check in one of your know-it-all books… it's probably beside a huge book called 'Pain in the Shell Little Brothers: The Nerd and Idiot Edition.'"

Licking his lips, Leo unsuccessfully tries to hide the smirk on his face. He clears his throat and attempts to smooth over Raph's remark. "We'll let you play when we're finished."

"You just wanna play that zombie game that Sensei says we're not allowed to play." Mikey spills the obvious like a can of beans. "If you don't let us play, we'll tell Sensei!"

"Then we won't be able to play it," Donnie deadpans as Leo and Raph snicker at the naïve comment. Clutching his fists at his sides he bites back a sassy remark, knowing it will only result in Raph giving him a shell wedgie before beating him to a pulp. "C'mon, Mikey. Let's find something else to do." Donnie glares at the back of his brothers' heads as they become completely immersed in slaying a screen full of zombies.

"Later, dorks!" Raph calls over his shoulder while leaning into the movements of his game character.

Reluctantly, Mikey pouts even more as he trails after Donnie, heading for the lab.

Donatello sighs as he pulls out his chemistry kit and starts aimlessly stirring and mixing. He hates being stuck down here all the time, especially when his older brothers are being class-A jerks. Now he was stuck with Mikey. He looks up to see his younger brother running across his lab pushing his rolling chair before jumping on top of it and riding it like an office furniture surfboard before promptly crashing into the garage door. Donnie winces at the sudden impact.

"I'm okay…. ow." Rolling his eyes, Don flops down with a squeak into another office chair. At least he could keep an eye on him in here, because an unseen Mikey always means trouble. Why did he always get stuck watching Mikey? He hated the way Leo and Raph always singled him out and still treated him like a kid even though he was smarter than both those shell-heads put together. He was nothing more than a glorified baby-sitter for Mikey, always left out of their secret older brother talks that he wasn't 'cool' enough to be a part of.

A bump to the back of his chair makes him spin around questioningly only to find Mikey spinning lazily in the other chair, stretching and compressing a metal coil in his hands. "Dude, I hate to 'spring' this on you, but I'm totally bored."

Donnie smirked at the corny pun before rummaging through his tool box. Okay, Mikey wasn't all that bad to hang out with. He was the only one who appreciated his love for clever word play.

He sticks a few wires in the back of his mask before turning to face Mikey again. It looked like three metal antennas were sticking out of his head. "Really?...I'm actually pretty wired myself." Giggles and snorts of laugh fill the lab as they toss around a few more puns before boredom seeps in once again.

Laughter and screeching zombies could be heard from the common room causing the younger siblings to slip into glum and envious moods.

"It's not fair, Donnie. It was our turn and they just took it like they always do with cool stuff we get." Mikey was right. Since they turned thirteen, Leo and Raph were starting to be extremely arrogant, self-entitled pricks. Maybe it was hormones. Unfortunately for Donnie, the puberty fairy ran out of 'alpha' hormones and decided to give him long gangly arms and legs, and the voice of a goose.

Usually Donnie let his older brothers' attitudes just roll off his shell like water off, well, a turtle's shell. However, he was starting to get fed up with how they were treating him and Mikey, like they were some kind of second-class siblings. Someone needed to knock them off their self-proclaimed pedestals.

"I completely agree, Mikey. They should be taught a lesson in the proper way to treat younger siblings."

"We're gonna prank 'em, aren't we?"

"Yep."

Mikey fist pumps the air. He loved pulling pranks, but he knew this prank would be awesome with Donnie's mad scientist brain at work! "What's the plan, bruh?" Mikey asks propping his chin up with his fists as he leans over the lab table.

Donnie leans smartly over the lab table dropping his squeaky voice to audible whisper, "We need vinegar, baking soda, magnesium citrate…" More whispering transpires as the two younger brothers put their heads together in a tight huddle.

Mikey bounces excitedly in his seat, barely able to contain his giggles. "This prank is going to be sooooo awesome! …And I've got the perfect name…."

 **FIN**

 **A/N: I have a feelings thing are about to get ugly...really ugly, lol. Well, there's a glimpse at what started this legendary prank ;) Next prompt coming up is "Donnie overly exhausted by working" by Turtle Lover 101. As always leave a review and a prompt if like :)**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Poetique**


	6. Exhaustion

**IMPORTANT NOTICE:**

 **Words are powerful. They can make you cry for a person you've never met or grind your teeth in fury for wrongs never righted. When I write, I weld my words to entertain and speak to the imagination and hidden truths of my readers. When I leave reviews for others, I understand the power of my words and use them to offer encouragement and constructive criticism to my fellow writers. Be careful how you use your words, they can build towers or destroy dynasties. I say all this because I have received some rude, condescending reviews and comments from anonymous guests. Usually, I just ignore them, but lately I'm seeing less and less of a need to submit myself to such harassment. So, this is the first and last time I will say this:**

 **If I receive another backhanded comment, rude, or condescending review, I will turn off the anonymous review feature on my account. I realize this is not the case for all the anons that review my stories; some of the anons actually offer constructive views, thoughtful analysis, and really heart-warming reviews which I deeply appreciate, but I'm not going to put up with those other rude anons anymore. I'm sorry for the rant, but it needed to be said. I will also post this message on my next chapter of "Logic of the Soul" for those who are reading that story.**

* * *

 **Regular A/N: I'm back with another drabble! :) This is a request submitted by Turtle Lover 101 who asked for a drabble with Donnie overly exhausted from working too much and comforting brothers. I hope you enjoy like it! :)**

* * *

 **Exhaustion**

"Leo, he's doing it again!"

Leo sighs at the sound of his youngest brother's intrusive voice as Mikey slaps his door open with the palm of his hand before disappearing down the hall.

"Coming…." Dragging his arm over his eyes, he tries to hold on to the last fragments of sweet slumber. With another sigh, he swings his legs out of bed yielding to his brotherly duties. The tiredness is pushed to the back of his mind until the desire to sleep is nothing more than a dull ache in his temple.

This is the third time this week. He should have nipped it in the bud the moment he noticed the unusual absent-mindedness of his brother. However, Leo let Donnie convince him that staying up late a few more nights would help him complete a couple of projects in a more timely manner. Well the 'couple' of projects suspiciously turned into a mountain of blueprints and mechanical odds and ends; and a 'few nights' turned into a week.

 _Well played, brother. Well played…_ Leo thought to himself, a little miffed he had fallen for his brother's manipulative logic.

"Leo!" Mikey shouts, thankful he doesn't have to handle this predicament on his own.

"Shh! You might wake him," Leonardo chastises as he approaches the orange-banded turtle.

"Uh, shouldn't we wake him though?"

"No, then it'll be impossible to get him back to sleep."

"Oh for the love of sais, are we doing this again?" Raphael joins his two brothers as they all observe the spectacle in the kitchen.

Donnie stumbles around the table, mumbling something as he spreads paper towels over the table and fumbles with a screwdriver, then a few spark plugs. He drunkenly bumps into a chair.

"Dude, this sleepwalking's gotta stop." Raphael shakes his head as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, I know…. He only does it when he refuses to sleep." Leo winces when one of the spark plugs clatters to the floor. "He's going to hurt himself."

"The heck with that! He's making too much darn noise! It's three o'clock in the freakin' morning!" Raph growls at Leo, his voice rising a few octaves as points to the clock on the wall.

Donnie stops fumbling. Drawn to Raph's voice, he starts to shuffle toward him with half-lidded eyes. With deadpanned effort, Raph dodges Donnie's path, sliding to the side as his half-conscious brother collides with the refrigerator. Mikey snickers.

" _RAPH_!" Leo hisses in a low whisper.

"What? You should have let me manhandle him to bed hours ago."

"He said he'd be finished with his work by eleven."

"Bruh, that was four hours, three cups of coffee, and two bags of skittles ago. You should know better."

"Yeah, yeah I know, I know.." Leo admits with raised hands. He gasps at the sudden movement near the table again. "….Good grief!" Leo rushes to Donnie as he pours himself a glass of motor oil. "Donnie, no!" with ease, he's able to tug the oil slicked glass from his sleep-deprived brother's hand.

"Where's my coffee?... Need to stay awake…." he mutters to no one in particular.

"It's…. It's in your lab, remember?" Leo answers quick on his toes as he leads his brother to the sink to wash the oil from his hands.

"Hm…That's right…. lab..." Donnie trails off into more nonsensical words as Leo dries his hands.

"Come on let's get you to bed and—"

"No!" Donnie's scratchy outburst makes Leo withdraw his hands in surprise, not wanting to agitate his sleepwalking brother. "Have to fix the patrol buggy….not safe." He hovers over the paper towels spread curiously over the kitchen table. "See, detachments are all wrong…See?!" He jabs his finger at the paper towel blueprints. There's a sense child-like urgency in his voice that is almost comical if not for the dark heavy bags under his eyes or the way his face was drawn in exhaustion.

"It can wait until you rest."

"Mmm….Hummingbird's heart beats 250 times…..second….. at rest." An amused smile spreads across Mikey's face while Leo just blinks in confusion at the splutter of randomness.

"Alright, hummingbird, let's go." In one swoop, Raph plops Donnie over his shoulder causing a small 'umpf' from the latter.

"Raph, be careful!"

"He's fine, Fearless," the muscular mutant grumbles in response. "He rambles enough when he's awake. I'll pull my scales out if I gotta listen to his sleep rambling, too."

"Rambling buggies…" Donnie mutters into the conversation.

Raph didn't hide his annoyance he kicks open the door to Donnie's room. Leo pulls back the untouched sheets as Raph half places, half drops their brother into bed.

"I kinda like sleepy!Don." Mikey's soft voice holds a bit of sweet warmth as he spreads the covers over his older brother. "He gets all kooky and science-y at the same time, it's pretty funny."

"Not. ..funny. …my laptop. ..where. .." Donnie slurs around a yawn, sluggish limbs wiggle beneath the covers. His arms escape from the covers grasping the air with diligence.

"Um…it's right here, Donnie." Leo takes his brother's hands smoothing them against the covers. His weary brother seems to accept this as his head drops back against the pillow again and his fingers twitch along his invisible keyboard.

"Nerdy work-a-holic…." Ralph chuckles as Donnie's pantomimed typing starts to slow down as his breathing levels out. "If he goes anywhere near his lab tomorrow, I'll pummel him."

"No arguments from me." Leo agrees with a lighthearted smile.

Raphael and Michelangelo whisper their good nights as they retire to their rooms. Leonardo turns to leave but stops short at the sound of a frustrated sigh from the bed behind him. He smirks and shakes his head at the frown creasing Donnie's brow. It was amazing how even in sleep, his brother's brain was still at work, striving to make their lives more comfortable, enjoyable. …safer.

His left hand still twitched, no doubt inventing something amazing in his subconscious state, but his brother needed rest. Covering the fidgety hand with his own, Leo gently pressed against Donatello's fingers until they smooth out into a restful stillness. When Donnie's mouth parts and a soft whistle blows from his lips, Leo knows he's finally in a deep sleep getting true rest. With the silence of a true ninja, he's across the room and shutting the door all before Donatello takes his next sound breath.

 **FIN**

 **Thanks for reading, please review :)**


	7. Splinter's Treat

**A/N: Another drabble, this time about turtle tots :)**

 **Splinter's Treat**

The chill of the night air brushes against my fur as I lean deeper into the shadows of the alley watching the lively festivities of the evening. Adults hold the hands of little ghouls, pirates and princesses as they scurry door to door to ask for candy. This concept of Halloween is still fairly new to me. As a child in Japan, we never dressed as the dead, but honored those who passed with ceremonial lanterns place set afloat in rivers to guide our lost loves home. A shrieking child wrapped in toilet paper runs around in circles with other children in the closed off road of the neighborhood. This American tradition seems more of a mockery then an honoring of the deceased. I shake my head thoughtfully, trying not to pass judgement on customs which I do not fully understand.

Despite my hesitation of accepting this holiday into our home, my boys have fully immersed themselves into after seeing a single Halloween commercial. The idea of a whole night dedicated to candy made them a constant form of chatter in the lair. Even my silent son, Donatello seemed excited about the thought of Halloween as a small smile curled around the fingers in his mouth. They spent most of the day scavenging through our small collection of possessions to make their 'costumes'.

With his blanket tied around his neck, Leonardo insisted on being a hero from a cartoon he is currently fixated on. He said he originally wanted to dress as me, but Michelangelo took his 'tail' and since he wanted to be a good big brother he said he did not fuss or fight and let his little brother have it.

Raphael smeared ketchup all of his mouth and plastron, claiming to be the 'boogie man' who eats dumb little brothers before chasing Michelangelo around the lair leaving a trail of tomato flavored sauce in his wake.

Donatello peered up at me with a sense of pride in his eyes. With a metal colander on his head and aluminum foil wrapped around his arms and legs. For a moment, I wonder if he is dressed as the radio he dismantled yesterday after I specifically told him not to touch it. However, before I can incorrectly guess, Michelangelo piped in to inform me he was 'robot'. Donatello's eyes lit up as he confirmed Michelangelo's outburst with a nod causing the metal bowl on his head bob forward covering nearly half his face.

Then there was Michelangelo who took Leonardo's 'tail' to create his costume. A pair of discarded devil's ears on his head, a small blob of pink paint on his beak and a black paint of whiskers on his cheeks, he asked me to guess what he was. Even if he had not 'meowed' or licked his hand, I would have known he was a cat from the way he swishes his makeshift 'rope tail' taped to his shell, from side to side.

They were all so excited thinking if they made best costumes, I would allow them to go trick-or-treating in the neighborhood above our sewer home. It pained me to see their small faces crumble with disappointment as I denied their request. At the tender age of four, they are still so very young. Even if most would mistake their true appearances for costumes, I am not willing to take that chance. There were several sniffles, tears, and pouts as they miserably curled into a pile and remained there until they fell asleep.

A chorus of trick-or-treaters brings me out of my thoughts. My sons will not wake from their nap for at least an hour. That will be long enough for me to find at least a single bag of candy that some careless child has dropped in their excitement of this evening. I will never be able to give them the childhood they deserve, but it will not stop me from trying.

 **FIN**

 **Thanks for reading, leave a review :)**


	8. The Box

**A/N: This is based on the prompt "What's in the freakin' box?!" submitted by TheEquestrianidiot2.0. This drabble got waaaay out of hand and ended up being five pages...it just kind of transformed on me, so yeah, its a little long for a drabble. Also, this story is gory and morbid, so if you are squeamish or sensitive to horror, read at your own risk!**

* * *

 **The Box**

"Guys, he's over here!" I shout over my shoulder as I run to the darkened corner of the aged classroom. Our brother's been missing for a week. I was finally able to crack the demented riddles leading us to a forgotten and half-demolished high school on the outskirts of the city. Watchful of any unseen dangers, I approach my brother. He's sitting on a stool in the corner, arms gripping his waist. I sweep over his body with medical eyes—a lot of gashes and bruise, but nothing disinfectant and stitches won't fix. There is a mechanical contraption that fits over the lower half of his face that reaches behind his head like medieval orthodontic headgear. What I'm truly worried about is the daunting look in his eyes. There's no playful or spirited twinkle there, just an empty focused stare.

"Mikey," I whisper as I touch his shoulder, mindful of the dark purple bruises there. When his harrowing stare finally meets my concerned eyes I give a reassuring smile. "It's Donnie. Leo and Raph are here too." His eyes gloss over my shoulders to my two older brothers before look back at me. "We're going home, okay?" Recognition starts to wash over his features and I breathe a sigh of relief as he blinks with a sense of alertness. My mind immediately analyzes the strange mouth piece attached to his face. "Let's get this off of you first, then—"

"NO!" His unexpected outburst makes me jerk my hands away from his face. "Don't…"

I look at how the metal digs into his mouth and the skin of his face and know that the sooner I get this muzzle off him, the better. "Mikey, this thing has to come off."

"No!..Nuh-not now…box first…" Fear stutters past his lips in a pitiful whine as he clutches his middle protectively. I narrow my gaze, concerned for his petrified behavior.

"Okay, okay…" I try to placate him. He's too jumpy for me to try and remove it now. I'll have to wait until we get to the lair, then I can sedate him. Even with this wired device over his head, I can still see the agony etched across his face. He takes a slow breath as he rubs his stomach. "Where are you hurt?" His only response is a whimper as he doubles over in pain.

"Buh-box…the box…"

His ramblings about a box make no sense to me. All I know is my brother has an injury he's too terrified to show me. I keep my voice soft and calm as I rub his arm. "Let me see, Mikey." He fiercely shakes his head, holding his stomach even tighter. After a few more placid words, I'm finally able to loosen his trembling arms away from his plastron. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up with what my eyes are seeing.

His plastron is a mess of cracks and broken plates that have been glued back together in a crud fashion. Even with his mangled plastron, there's a large mass beneath it that's impossible to miss. The bloody and swollen skin of his stomach shows between the glops of hardened glue on his plastron. Within the crevices of his misshapen plates is a note that reads: _Crack me._

The sick irony of the instructions infuriates me as I clench my fists at my sides. Mikey's distressing whines tear at my heart, but previous experience with the grisly riddles has taught me _not_ following this psycho's directions can be just a deadly as following them.

"Leo, Raph, lower him to the ground… _carefully_ " I direct my brothers. Mikey tenses with pain, holding his stomach between his hands as they position him on the ground. Raph places himself behind Mikey, supporting his head as he pats his chest. Conveniently, I find a hand shovel, no doubt that sociopath left for us. Pressing along his stomach, I can feel the heat of inflammation just beneath his skin. He cries out from the contact. "Sorry," I offer a quiet apology.

Whatever's been stuffed into my brother is sizeable and oddly-shaped making the outline of his stomach look like a canopied cube.

"Hurts…get it…out… _please._ "

Hearing my brother's mewing pleas, I refuse to look him in the face. I need to brace myself. Pulling my lips into a thin line, I steady my mind. Taking a deep breath, I press the tip of the handheld shove against the highest point of his distended belly. I spare my older brothers a solemn glance. "Keep him still."

As I re-crack the plates of his plastron, my brother's tortured cries echo in the abandoned school like the lost souls of the undead. I pocket the loose plates in my belt pouch, unsure if I will be able to reattach them later. Removing some of his plastron reveals the tender stretched skin of his stomach. His skin is butchered and brutally stitched together with thick threading, keeping the bulge beneath in place. Mikey's stomach spasms as he struggles to breathe through the excruciating pain. The flesh was pulled too tight and now there are angry red puckers along the stitches. Dried puss is crusted over another label that reads: _Untie Me._

I clip the end of the knotted thread with my clippers. A single tug is all it takes for the stitches to unravel. I gasp at object bulging from his insides. "A box…"

Lo and behold, there is indeed a box pressed into his stomach cavity. Twin doors adorn the front of the box with a small label tied to one of the bloody knobs that reads: _Open Me._

"Ahh…hahhh…buh-box…Argh!..." Raph and Leo double their efforts as Mikey squirms beneath him.

"Shell, Don!...What's inside the freakin' box?!"

I frown in annoyance when Raph's gruff voice breaks into my thoughts as he continues to hug Mikey by the chest to keep him still. "I'm a scientist, not a mind-reader!" Turning my attention back to my little brother, I stable my hands as I slowly open the small doors of the box.

My eyes burn as I try to make sense of what I'm seeing. Inside the box is a disarray of colored wires grossly entangled with the length of my brother's intestines. The back of the box was cut out in order to snake his intestines between the wires….that means his large and small intestines have been sliced and reattached just to create this…this…sick death trap. I look up at my brother's pale sweat-slicked face. I'm astonished Mikey lived through that surgical manipulation.

How could someone be so demented, so mentally disturbed to do such a repulsive thing? I've see lab rats treated more humanely. A small click and the sound of static make us all snap our attention to Mikey's head.

 ** _If you are hearing this message, you have found your dearest little brother._**

The voice plays from a small recorder embedded in the side of the mechanism on Mikey's head.

 ** _If you haven't figured it out by now, your brother's insides are intricately entwined in a tripwire. I hope deactivating it is somewhat of a challenge….it was quite difficult to set those wires amongst his intestines; innards' juices are just so slippery!_**

 ** _I had a devil of a time getting the little nitwit to shut up as we waited for you, but if you pull the wrong wire, you should be able to take care of his incessant babbling permanently. You see, the orthodontic retainer attached to your brother's head is not to correct misaligned teeth. If you disable the wrong wire in that box, it will trigger a signal to my levered head garment. It will wrench those chubby little cheeks of his back into one last smile before slicing precisely three-fourths of his head off like a summer melon._**

 ** _You have six minutes to deactivate the bomb without decapitating your brother. In three minutes, my robotic hellhounds will be there to destroy you all, that is, if you haven't already blown yourselves to oblivion. Remember one slippery move and off with his head; take too long and my hellhounds will come for you right before you explode into a glorious blaze of bone shards and splatter guts. You should probably get started now, time's a-wastin'._**

The sadistic recording ends only to be replaced by the tell-tale ticking of a timer. Red numbers countdown on a digital counter on the bottom plate of the face muzzle. I look back down at the tangled mess of wormy intestines and wires. I glance at the timer again. I'm down to five minutes. There are no physical wires attaching the head-slicing device to the bomb…good. Pulling out my T-cell, I work as quickly as I can with blood-slicked hands. Manipulating the motherboard, I'm able to use my phone to disrupt the wireless interconnection. The head trap releases a loud hum before dying out completely. My brain is on autopilot as my hands go to work dismantling the headpiece with tools from my bag. Within seconds, pieces of the contraption start falling to the ground as I pull apart and unscrew its various parts. I breathe a sigh of relief when the paper thin blade falls away eliminating the immediate danger of my brother being decapitated. I can't hide the smug smirk that travels up the corners of my mouth. This 'Jigsaw' wanna-be has no idea who he's dealing with.

"Leo, get the rest of this scrap metal off his head while I deactivate the bomb." Mikey's head lolls against Raph's chest as Leo removes the final piece from his head. I can still see the shuddered movement of his chest as he breathes. He passed out somewhere between me unscrewing the mouth piece and removing the blade. Still precautions must be taken. "No matter what. Hold. Him. Still." With a nod, Raph tightens his bear-grip around Mikey's chest. As soon as my fingers pinch a wire twisted around his lower intestine, his eyes snap open with pinpoint pupils before he lets out a bloodcurdling scream. I ignore him. Every emotion and protective sentiment for my little brother gets shoved to a quarantined part of my mind. I can't focus on how Raph struggles to hold down his bucking body, or the way Leo's voice deepens with watery emotions as he whispers loving words and strokes Mikey's brow affectionately. No, I can't let those things weaken my resolve or make me apprehensive of the task at hand. I have to concentrate on the blood-soaked wires….shell, he's bleeding too much.

"Raph!...Hold him down!"

Michelangelo is depending on me…they're all depending on me. I'm down to three minutes… _three minutes_?...oh shell…

"Donnie, I'll hold off the robots as long as I can." Leo's already on top things. His face is hard with determination as he unsheathes his katanas and runs for the door. Mikey's movements are becoming more sluggish.

"Go with him, Raph."

"What about Mike?"

"I got it from here, he's about to pass out again, anyway." Raph gives me a scrutinizing glare before staring down at our youngest brother in his arms. "I can't focus on Mikey, if I have to worry about Leo getting mauled to death because he doesn't have back-up."

With a low growl, he eases Mikey's body against the wall. "Fine, but we'll be back once we trash those tin can canines." I watch my hot-headed brother's retreating form until he disappears from the room. I shouldn't have lied to him, but in all honestly telling him the truth wouldn't have made matter any better. Mikey's not on the verge of passing out…he's going into shock. I've disconnected all the wiring accept one. Unlike the other wires that were simply wrapped around his intestines, this wire is impaling his abdominal aorta. I'm not equipped to remove it without killing him. I've already played out every possible scenario and they all end in at least one of us dying today.

He's won. That heartless monster won. The thought of that murderer sitting in some two-dollar motel getting off on watching us die from some hidden camera makes hopelessness fester deep within my soul.

I failed my little brother. Mikey's a goner no matter what I do, but if I plan this just right Leo and Raph will have a chance. It's inevitable at least two of us won't make it because I won't leave my little brother to die alone.

"Duh-Donnie?..." I blink back tears as I look at my brother, his face a shade of deathly grey.

"Yeah, Mikey."

"Don't…leave."

"I'm right here, Mikey. I'm not going anywhere." I ease the flaps of his stomach closed. I don't bother to tighten the stitches, afraid of putting him through any more unnecessary pain. Pulling a gauze from my bag, I gently wrap the unstitched wound watching as red stains blossom against the white material. I lean against the wall and pull him as close to me as I can before he gasps in pain.

"Is..is the box…out?" His words are breathless and his voice sounds so small.

"You're going to be okay, little brother." I avoid his question and squeeze his shoulder drawing him even closer as the chill of his body molds into the warmth of my side.

"Where Lee and Raphh?…" His words start to slur and I know I'm losing him. I glance at the counter on the floor. A little less than two minutes left. I hope he passes on his own before the blast has a chance to take him out.

"They'll be here soon." My throat constricts as the lie passes my lips.

"…Okay…." He cranes his neck to look up at me. His weary eyes widen, too bright and too innocent for the cruelty of this world. "D, sing our…..suh-song." His face scrunches together in pain and effort at his request. I swallow down the fear, the anger, the unfairness of this fate, because right now my baby brother is all that matters. I plant a lingering kiss on the top of his head before I find my voice again.

"Sometimes in our lives we all have pain, we all have sorrow; but if we are wise, we know that there's always tomorrow."

"…Lean…on me…" He surprises me when he weakly joins me on the chorus. I can hear Leo and Raph outside the room still fighting off mechanical beasts. The blast of the explosion will probably knock them off their feet, but they'll survive. Mikey's voice tapers off and his eyes are unfocused….unseeing. They say a person's hearing is the last thing to go before death, so with a heavy heart and forced bravery I sing past the tears and heartache that threatening to steal our song of brotherhood from my vocal chords.

"….For it won't be long 'til I gonna need somebody to lean on."

 **FIN**

 **A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Be sure to leave a review, prompts are always welcome :)**

 **Poetique**


	9. Ice Cream Kitty Don't Care

**A/N: Okay, this little shortie was a request made by FaithfulWhispers who wanted Ice Cream Kitty giving sass. This is probably the silliest one-shot I've ever written. It is written in as a parody to the youtube video that went viral in 2011 called "Crazy Nastya## Honey Badger". This is something light-hearted and terribly silly, so don't take it to seriously ;) Enjoy!**

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 **Ice Cream Kitty Don't Care**

As we travel below to the New York City Sewers, we are greeted with the welcoming stench of stagnant water, fecal matter, and possibly a decaying corpse. Beyond the perfume a la derriere, is the quaint home of four ninja turtles and their rat sensei. Yes, it is quite peculiar….let's take a looksie!

Everyone seems to be chillaxin', doing their own thing. Oh, but wait.….what is this? A look in the kitchen reveals the rare species known as the 'Ice Cream Kitty'. Ice Cream Kitty is seldom seen outside of her beloved freezer, but today she has ventured out of the safety of her icy world for one thing and one thing only.

The laptop.

The portable computer is never seen without its purple-banded owner nearby, unless of course it was apprehended by the smaller freckled turtle, who left the prized possession idly on the kitchen table. Ice Cream Kitty purrs with delight. God bless that little orange cinnamon roll. From the comfort of her transportable icebox, Ice Cream Kitty wastes no time pawing at the keyboard. A sugary smile graces her face as her favorite multiplayer game appears on the screen.

A chocolate-vanilla paw slaps the keyboard with vigor. Look at her go! Those other players don't stand a chance. Oh, my….one of her teammates is being attacked by an ogre! She leaves that fool in the forest, cause Ice Cream Kitty ain't got time for deadweight.

While our ice cream gamer is slaying ogres like a boss, she doesn't see the tall menacing figure behind her.

"Mikey! What have I told you about letting your cat play on my laptop! It'll take me forever to get the clumps of strawberries from between the keys!"

"Meow?..." Ice Cream Kitty arches her strawberry brow at the tall purple-band turtle that's all up in her gaming space. She snorts. Nobody _lets_ Ice Cream Kitty do anything. Ice Cream Kitty don't need nobody's permission, she does what she wants!

Oh snap! The tall turtle tries to take the laptop from Ice Cream Kitty, but Ice Cream Kitty ain't haven't none of that! She growls at the turtle, but wait….did that turtle just roll his eyes at her?...And he's _still_ trying to take the laptop? That turtle done lost his mind.

Ice Cream Kitty starts hissing and swiping her wet paw at him like 'Don't you see I'm gaming, fool? You better check yo'self before you wreck yo'self!' Ha! That sassy threat was enough to make that Tall Turtle back the heck up.

Tall Turtle frowns at the chocolate scratch marks on his arm. You better watch it turtle, next time you won't be so lucky. Uh-oh, uh-oh!...what is this?...Is that a spray bottle in  
Tall Turtle's hand?

Tall Turtle glares at Ice Cream Kitty like, 'Don't make me use this.' But look, Ice Cream Kitty is all chillaxed still gaming; she ain't paying that silly turtle no mind.

Oh..Ooooh!...He sprayed Ice Cream Kitty! Hm!...He's either stupid or has a death wish…maybe both.

And here we have a fierce battle between Ice Cream Kitty and Tall Turtle. I wonder what'll happen?

Ice Cream Kitty's like "MOAAR!" One minute she's gaming out and the next she's charging Tall Turtle's face Leeroy Jenkins style. She's all over that turtle like a wet rag…a wet rag with claws.

Look at that slow motion reel…. She just slapped the crap at that turtle…she did again… _and_ again. Shoot, Ice Cream Kitty don't play! Ice Cream Kitty is crazy as heck when you mess up her gaming groove.

Tall turtle's like "Get her off me! Get her off me!" But Ice Cream Kitty don't care, she will turn that fool into a turtle popsicle. Ice Cream Kitty's beating the snot outta that turtle….she's all over his face, her tail gagging in his mouth….ew, Ice Cream Kitty, you just nasty. Ew!...She just bit him on the neck like a vampire cat. Nasty. But hardcore Ice Cream Kitty don't care.

That kitty is so cray-cray! She just keeps on mauling that turtle's face while he thrashes around the kitchen screaming like a pansy. That's right, Tall Turtle, you're a pansy. Oh my gosh, he just ran into a wall. Stupid turtle. Stupid turtle twitching on the floor while Ice Cream Kitty sits victorious on his face. Pansy Tall Turtle just got his butt kicked by Ice Cream Kitty.

Ice Cream Kitty drags her chocolate tail up the table and back into her little icebox. And she's _still_ winning like a boss, cause Ice Cream Kitty is hardcore like that. Pansy Turtle is still lying on the floor whining about a brain freeze. But Ice Cream Kitty don't give a crap; she just gets more strawberry chunks stuck in the keyboard.

 **FIN**

 **A/N: Silly Turtle, you know you can't handle Ice Cream Kitty, cause Ice Cream Kitty don't play that! :P LOL! Thanks for reading, leave a review!**


	10. Leadership

**A/N: Hey guys it's been awhile! Huge thanks to Ravenshell for being my beta! I was finally inspired with a drabble for a request made by Bubblyshell for the phrase "leadership isn't easy." I didn't use your exact wording but I tried and I hope you like it! I'm still plugging away at drabbles, so if you've sent me one, I haven't forgotten about you! ;)**

Expression set in stone, Leo watched the city from a rooftop as it carried on with its superficial business. However, his mind wasn't on the citizens below but rather on the those who sacrificed their lives for the sake of the city. Those ingrates would never truly understand or know the reason why they walk around without a care in the world. They would never know the countless times unseen entities had saved their lives from astronomical demise. For if they had seen those hidden heroes, those saints behind the veil of shadows, they would yell demon before they uttered the word angel.

His brothers were those angels, forever destroyed by the true monsters that dwell unseen in the city: the Shredder and the Kraang.

Leo clutched his fist remembering the voice of his brothers as they cried out to him before being dropped into a vat of mutagen. They double-mutated into a massive creature that was collectively his brother, but also something that was beyond reasoning, something beyond salvation. The Mutanimals were there and fought along side him, trying to defend themselves against his brothers (brother?), trying to contain them so they would not wreak havoc in the city, or cause further harm to themselves.

There was no other option. Leonardo was the leader of his now grossly mutated brothers and Slash the leader of the Mutanimals; a decision had to be made. He and Slash doused the warehouse in gasoline while the rest of the Mutanimals distracted the brother behemoth.

The explosion was meant to end his brothers' miserable existence, but things never end as they should. Leo and Slash barely dragged themselves from the aftermath of debris, the rest of the Mutanimals perished with his globular mass of brothers.

"Being a leader ain't easy," Slash's solemn voice disrupts his thoughts of guilt as he hears the large turtle approaching somewhere behind him.

'Leaders of what?' the blue-masked turtle wanted to ask. Neither of them were leaders, not anymore. But instead he turned to face the other turtle, angry tears unmoved in his glossy eyes.

"No, it isn't."

 **Fin.**

 **Thanks for reading! :)**


	11. Beginnings

**A/N: Another drabble to share, this one definitely not as gruesome as the last one lol. Enjoy!**

Paying close attention to rhythm of splashing feet against the damp sewer floor, I continue our trek toward the closest sewer drain. Algae is plentiful there and with four young mouths to feed I am having to take this trip more often as the boys grow. A falter in the footsteps behind me, pulls my attention over my shoulder to see Donatello stumble slightly as the grates above him make him less observant of the jagged floor before him.

"Donatello, watch your steps." Fingers tucked into his mouth, he acknowledges my words with thoughtful stare before watching his feet more carefully.

It has been three years since I saved the four turtles from abandonment in the green ooze, since I have grown to call them my sons. I can no longer leave them in cardboard boxes as I scavenge for food. They have grown too big, too curious for such containments and cannot be left alone. They are old enough to obey me in my presence, but not when they are alone, so they travel with me.

"We there, papa?" an energetic squeak bounces beside me.

"Not yet, Michelangelo. Do you remember what I said about holding your brother's hand?" I remind him with an expectant look. His eyes widen with exaggerated remembrance as he gasps and falls in line between Leonardo and Donatello. Raphael takes the rear as my special protector. I had to tell him Leo and he were the protectors of their younger brothers between them for Raphael to stop pouting about being last.

When we reach the sewer drain, I turn to the boys and their childish gibberish immediately stops. The look I give them holds no nonsense.

"I am going to get food," I speak sternly as I point to the drainage behind me. "You must stay here. Do not move from this place. Do you understand?"

"Hai, papa," they answer in unison, all except Donatello who nods repetitively to show his comprehension. The young turtle has yet to speak; I fear he may be mute.

With a final meaningful stare, I scale down the lower ladder, scraping the algae from the walls, placing each handful into a large jar I carried with me in a sling sack. The boys will need protein to grow healthy and strong. Extra worms will help. The near full jar nearly slips from my grasp as cries and screams echo through the tunnels. My heart drums against my chest as I drop the jar into my sack and leap over several steps until I am on the upper level once again.

"Boys!" My voice deepens with fear. They are not where I told them to stay. My ears perk at pitiful whimpers in the shadows. "My sons, are you hurt? I am right here. Come out." Their whimpering and whines of fear only increase as I try to coax them from their hiding.

"Papa, there!" A small green finger emerges from the shadows, pointing to the grate above us. Daylight shines down on us as well as the sounds of the city as traffic and human sounds penetrate the small world of my frightened sons.

"Monsters, papa!" Their little voices chirp with fear of the unknown. This is their first time coming with me into the tunnels and being old enough to understand their surroundings. The sewers, these tunnels, this is their home. They know not of the human world above us. I am tempted to keep them in fear and ignorance, let them believe there are monsters in the sky; it will keep their curiosity at bay, it will keep them safe... but for how long?

No, wisdom and understanding will be best suited here.

"Come here, little ones. You are safe, come to me." Kneeling, I beckon them with open arms and am instantly bombarded with little turtle shells. "Hush now, there are no monsters."

"Up there, monsters." Raphael is unconvinced of my declaration as he shakes his head against my chest. They quiver against me as shadows of moving vehicles glide over our bodies like the claws of a evil creature and horns blast like the hungry roar of a beast.

"Listen to me, not the sounds you hear; look at me, not the things you think you see." Holding them close, I give them a small bounce to gain their attention. As tear-stained eyes finally look at me, I smile warmly. "The moving shadows above us are not monsters, they are cars, and the sounds you hear are from the city. Above us is the world of humans."

"Like bedtime stories?" Leonardo asks, trying to make sense of this new information.

"Three piggies!" Michelangelo's fear is quickly forgotten at the mention of stories as he blurts out his favorite fairy tale.

"Not quite like the three little pigs, Michelangelo. Those are pretend stories. The human world above is very real."

"Like Jack and Jill?" Leonardo tries again.

"Close, my son. Jack and Jill are also pretend, but real humans look very much like Jack and Jill. Humans come in many sizes and different colors. Some are small like you and others are big like me. They make a lot of noises, especially in their cars."

"Too noisy." Raphael covers his ear slits as a large truck honks its horn. As it passes by, it vibrates the floor of the tunnel.

"Can we see humans, Papa?"

"No, Michelangelo. The world of humans is dangerous. You must never be seen by humans."

"Why?" It is Leonardo who chimes in next, his serious eyes seeking mine for guidance.

"Because humans will hurt you and take you away from me."

"No! Never take from you, Papa." An emerald flame burns brightly in Raphael's defiant eyes. Eyes I would no doubt believe were they not attached to such an infantile face. Donatello seems uninterested in our discussion, his eyes trained on the movement from the grate above us. I gently pull his fingers from him mouth.

"Humans bad?" The disappointment in Michelangelo's voice is heartbreaking.

"No. All humans are not bad, but they do not understand us."

"Like Don-Don?" Raphael asks bluntly poking Donatello for emphasis. Donatello shrinks away from his brother's touch as he sucks fervently on his fingers again. Stroking his olive green scalp, I tug his fingers from his mouth again. He smiles at me and points at the grate, brown eyes twinkling with a form of comprehension only known in his own mind.

"Raphael, we have talked about this. Donatello understands; it is just in a different way than you and I. It is why he does not speak." He eyes his younger brother questioningly as he often does, but says nothing more.

"Humans understand dif'rent?" Michelangelo is my friendliest child. He befriends every small rodent and insect that scurries into our home. He is hopeful of meeting humans, befriending them as well. If only it were that simple.

"Yes, they understand differently. Sometimes humans hurt others because they understand differently."

"Humans hurt us 'cause they different?" Leonardo's young mind is fast at work, trying to piece together the truth I am not ready for them know.

"Humans will hurt us because we are different," I correct him as I pull Donatello away from a ladder that leads up to a manhole. I settle him beside Michelangelo and pull his fingers from his mouth. "We do not look like the humans in the storybooks. This makes them afraid and want to hurt us. They do not understand us."

I watch the various expressions play across the faces of my young sons. There is a sudden seriousness that paints Leonardo's brow as he huddles closer to his brothers. Raphael looks up at the noisy sounds and shifting shadows above with a scowl so fierce, I fear I have unintentionally ingrained a seed of abhorrence toward humans within his young mind. Donatello sucks happily on his fingers and I am unsure how much he truly understands as he stares curiously at the grate and the ladder leading to the city streets. Michelangelo is the hardest to look at. I watch as his wishful blue eyes war between my words and his desire to love the world around him.

They are young boys that should be growing, playing, learning about the beauties of this world, yet they stand here before me confused by the fear and prejudices of the humans above. I fear this is the beginning of many hard realizations my children must face.

"Come. It is time to go home." It tugs my heart to see Donatello point to the manhole. I do not know if his gesture is out of curiosity or true understanding that we do not belong down here. As they line up holding one another's hands, I know more questions will undoubtedly come and I must be prepared for them. I blink away the moisture gathering at the corners of my eyes as I see a sliver of innocence slip from my children today.

 **Fin.**

 **A/N: Thanks for reading!**


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